


Bro, we should get married!

by redneterp



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Justin Oluransi is not known for his emotional intelligence, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Sharing a Bed, canon-typical anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redneterp/pseuds/redneterp
Summary: Late in their Senior year at Samwell, Ransom realizes that returning to Canada for med school means leaving behind his Best Bro(TM), Holster. This is, of course, unacceptable and so he comes up with the perfect solution, marriage for immigration approval. Who would't want to marry their Best Bro?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing months ago before being distracted by other projects, but knowing there were new updates coming this week (which could render the whole story not-canon-compliant) gave me the necessary kick in the pants to finish the final chapters this weekend.
> 
>  
> 
> This story takes place in Ransom and Holster's Senior Year, or Year Three of the webcomic (2015-2016). Thanks always to Ngozi for creating the characters and sandbox for us to play in.

**Friday September 25th**

“Rans, WHAT are you doing?”

Justin uncurled himself fractionally from his huddle on the floor to look up at Holster. “Uh … why are you here? Don’t you have your TV show class?”

“First of all, it’s Twenty-first Century Comedy as Social Commentary, and second,” he raised his fingers as he counted, “it ended an hour ago, I was at Annie’s with Chowder and Farmer. And thirdly, again, what the fuck is going on? You’re in coral reef mode on the floor, but with a death-grip on your laptop, and I KNOW you don’t have any quizzes for at least another two weeks. Spill, bro.” 

“Med school spreadsheet,” Ranson muttered. 

“I know for a fact that the application deadline passed last week, and that you had your applications finished and submitted weeks ago. So why are you still looking at the Excel?”

“The Canadian deadlines passed, but not for the US schools, what if I shouldn’t have ruled them out?”

“Bro, you need to explain what’s going on, but I am not sitting on that floor. We have a game tonight and I need the use of my limbs, so get your ass onto the bed. Leave the laptop.” And with that Holster tugged on Justin’s arm until he sat up, then gave him a shove onto the lower bunk, kicked off his flip-flops and settled in cross-legged beside him, “Now, spill.”

“Well I was hanging out with March and her friends at lunch, and I guess it came up that I was applying to Canadian med schools, and her roommate was all ‘but why aren’t you applying to schools nearby?’ and I was all ‘not a US Citizen, not eligible for state schools’ and the she’s all ‘well why don’t you just go to Harvard?’ as if it’s that simple and then my brain shorted out but the jist of it is that what she said made me start wondering about US schools again, so here I am.”

“Ok, dude, you need to breathe. There, that’s it,” Holster muttered as Ransom’s breathing began to slow. “Now, can we run the pro/con list?”

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed.

“So, which school are we looking at, Harvard?”

“Yeah.”

“So, pros.”

“Well, it’s world-renowned and it’s close by so I could still visit the team.”

“And cons?” Holster asked.

“The acceptance rate is under 4%, and the cost! Fuck, Holtzy, it’s ninety grand a year US, that’s nearly a half-mil Canadian, and non-residents get limited financial aid. I can’t even imagine that amount of debt.”

“Would it be worth it? You still have a few weeks until their deadline.”

“How do you know that?”

“Rans, you’ve talked this through for over a year, I listened. So, is it worth it? Do YOU actually want to go to Harvard? Has something else changed? You’ve been working on those spreadsheets cataloguing all the options since our sophomore year”

“It is a great school, but I don’t want to be some academic policy expert or researcher, I just want to be a doctor. And U of T is nearly as well-ranked, and it’s in Toronto.”

“Homesick?”

“After four years at a mostly-White school in a mostly-White state? Being in Toronto would be ‘swawesome, if I get accepted there. And the other five Canadian schools that I applied to are all good schools, though some of the cities are more diverse than others.”

“So that’s Harvard, how about any the other private US schools? Need to review the pro/con list for any of them?”

“No, you’re right, they’re still all nos, it’s one of the Canadian schools or nothing.”

“You’ll get into one of the ones you applied to, I’m sure of it. And now that you have regained your chill, can we please sleep?”

“Pre-game naptime!” Ransom sang out, raising his fist for a fistbump, then flopped to lay down with his head on the pillow.

“Bro, this is my bed.”

“But best-bro naps are the best!”

“Fine, just don’t snore in my ear.” Holster muttered as he set the alarm on his phone and slid into the space against the wall.

_X_ 

It was a ‘swaseome nap, and Ransom and Holster were more in sync than ever on the ice during the scrimmage that evening. Even if it was only a glorified practice it was an auspicious start to their year of co-captaincy. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Holster continue to try and get Ransom to figure out what he wants.

**Saturday November 28**

Ransom wiggled and shuffled on his patch of mattress between Holster and the wall. The pre-game co-captain nap had quickly become a tradition, and he wasn’t going to mess with a superstition that was clearly working, as they were at the top of conference table by four points. 

“Rans, bro, settle the fuck down and sleep.” Holster grumbled.

“Can’t man. Maybe it was the PSLs.”

“Plural? Exactly how many coffees did you consume?”

“Well one with Bitty this morning, then again when Chowder and French dropped in and brought me one, and then with March for our lunch-date. So three? But it’s the last day Annie’s is serving them, Monday it’s that all-mint, all-the-time Christmas shit. And also, how can I sleep when there were three NHL players in our Haus two days ago! For Hausgiving!”

“I know, dude, I was here.” Holster sighed, but relented and turned towards Ransom, who took that as an invitation to launch into a monologue about the ‘swawesome-ness that was Tater, Russian Hockey Beast extraordinaire, as Holster grunted the bare minimum replies needed to sustain the monologue.

“And Jack and Bitty! They are just so cute I couldn’t even chirp them. They’re like soulmates or something, with the cute looks and the finishing each other’s thoughts. And the nicknames!”

“Dude, you fined them a dozen times!”

“I know, isn’t it ‘swawesome? The fine jar kegster fund is overflowing! But seriously,” he rolled to face Holster “their connection. How did we not see that last year? They are Relationship Goals.”

“Bro, you have been dating the same girl for months now, what are you talking about?”

“March is ‘swawesome, but I don’t know if it’s meant to last? Are we Goals, or just having fun at college? I’m not even sure we really are dating? We hang out and we text sometimes, and the sex is ‘swawesome, but we never exactly defined the relationship.”

“Well, define it now, at least for yourself. Is it serious? Are you in love with her?” Holster’s voice sounded tight on the last question.

“Are you jealous, bro?”

“We’re talking about you today, bro. So do you imagine spending your future with March? Would you want her to move to Toronto with you someday?”

“Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Says the dude who has spreadsheets and plans for everything.” Holster knocked his shoulder against Justin’s.

“Shut up… But maybe you’re right, March is great and we’re having fun, but when I imagine the future, she’s not really there?”

“Ok, then you really should talk to her about what both of you want.”

“Yeah.”

And that was clearly enough emotional introspection for Ransom, who switched to a spirited retelling of every interaction with Tater at Hausgiving. He moved on to praising every play Tater made in the Falconers game against the Rangers the night prior, until his speech slowed and he tucked his head against Holster’s shoulder and sighed. “G’nap bro.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ransom begins to realize what he wants.

**Sunday February 28th, 1130pm**

Justin stretched his limbs as he climbed off the Samwell Shuttle, and then slinging his backpack and garment bag over his shoulder he took off at a brisk pace across the Quad. His thoughts had been swirling for days, and the shuttle had been delayed by freeway construction, and right now he wanted nothing more than to be back in the Haus attic, to just be Ransom, not Justin Oluransi, Prospective Medical Student. He nearly tripped climbing the stairs in the Haus, which was surprisingly dark and quiet, barely stopping to brush his teeth before climbing the final staircase to the attic. He tried to be quiet as he slung the bag over the back of his chair, peeled off his clothes and headed for the ladder, but still Holster shifted on the bottom bunk.

“Bro, you’re back!”

“Sorry dude, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping, I guess I forgot how to sleep when you aren’t here. C’mere bro!” Holster said, reaching out blindly to make his point.

“Bro, you are so blind without your glasses!” Ransom chirped without malice, as he allowed Holster to grab his arm and tug him to bed. And it was true, somehow as they’d started their final semester at Samwell the pre-game bro-naps had morphed into sharing the lower bunk more nights than not (now that Ransom was at the Haus more often, as just before the winter break he and March had finally had that talk, and mutually agreed that theirs wasn’t a forever-future path and to be friends, without benefits). Two giant hockey d-men sharing a twin bed shouldn’t have worked, and yet somehow it did as the entity that was Ransom-and-Holster made it work, being as aware of each other’s positions and movements as they were on the ice.

Ransom snuggled into his spot against Holster’s shoulder. “It’s good to be home, I missed you.” 

“We texted the whole time you were gone, and you sent me 14 snaps just today. And I liked your Instagram shots from 3 frozen Canadian cities, even if they were pretentiously artsy.”

“I know, but it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not. But you’re home now.”

And it was true, Ransom realized, that being with Holster felt like home. And all of the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind for days settled and came into focus. He had been prepared for the interview questions, could rattle off answers in his sleep the details of his summer research work, why playing competitive college hockey provided valuable experience for the high-pressure work in a team environment that was modern medicine, the values learned from an immigrant community, all of that. But in his final interview that morning, Justin was asked where he saw himself in ten years, and in the moment he was able to give the answer he’d prepared (he was interested in specializing in rehab medicine, or maybe sports medicine, seeing first-hand how important that work was after his Aunt Amara’s bad car crash when he was in high school), but the larger implications haunted him all day. As he rode the train, as he stood in endless lines at Pearson, as he sat on the shuttle crawling through construction detours, it was there. Where did he see himself? Who was there? Holster was. For nearly four years they had been a unit, Ransom-and-Holster. And in just a couple short months that would end and then what? He didn’t know. He’d never considered that he should make a spreadsheet for them. But from his spot against Holster’s shoulder, listening to his breaths slow and settling towards sleep, he realized the answer was simple, they belonged together. And so before he could over-think it, “Bro?”

“Yeah?” Holster mumbled, nearly in his ear.

“Move to Canada with me?”

“Okay.”

And with that, Ransom-and-Holster fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ransom proposes via what could possibly be the least-romantic proposal of all time.

**Monday February 29th**

The sky was still dark when Ransom woke the next morning, with only the first traces of dawn’s light reaching into the attic. It wasn’t long before the previous night’s conversation sprang to mind, and he laid there staring at the base of the top bunk as he replayed the conversation and its implications. Within minutes Holster’s breathing changed, and he moaned as he turned on his side. “Bro, I could hear your mind racing in my sleep. What’s up?”

“Did you mean it?” Ransom asked.

And such was the power of their mental connection that Holster didn’t need any clarification before answering “Yeah.”

“For real? Like, I’m a horrible bro. We’ve spent years talking about and planning my future, and I never once asked about your goals.”

“I really don’t think about it that much,” Holster replied. “I mostly live in the now, you know - have fun, play hockey. I guess hockey was my main focus for so long that I haven’t thought much beyond that. I used to imagine playing pro, but we’re near the end of our senior season and there haven’t been any scouts hanging around, even for AHL teams, so …” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Are you upset?”

Holster paused, taking a few slow breaths before answering. “Nah, I’m not. I love hockey, but it’s not the number one thing in my life. I realized a while back that I’m fine with getting a job doing whatever, and playing hockey for fun in a Rec league or something. People are more important.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we’re a team bro. So if you’re moving to Canada, I’ll move with you if you want.”

“I want,” Ransom replied, suddenly grateful for the dim light as he continued to stare at the overlying bunk. This suddenly seemed like a conversation too important for daylight. 

“So how do we do this?” Holster asked. 

Ransom mentally reviewed the options familiar to anyone growing up in neighbourhoods surrounded by immigrants and first-generation Canadians. “Well you can apply for a work permit, but without a confirmed job or special skills that probably wouldn’t be approved or would take years. You could get a student visa if you applied to to grad school?”

“No offense, but I think I’m done with school. And besides, one of us needs to cover the rent.”

“I guess since you’re not a gazillionaire the investor category is out...”

“I’ll have you know that I have hundreds of dollars in my bank account!”

“You’d need to multiply that by a few million to qualify… The most reliable option is usually the family stream, but … Ooh, I know! Bro, we should get married!” He flipped in bed towards Holster, in time to see his face shifting through a few emotions he couldn’t quite identify before landing on excitement. “Let me check…” he said as he dove over Holster to grab his phone from the pile of clothes he’d dropped on the floor the night before. He spent the next few minutes flicking through websites, his head resting on Holster’s chest as Holster’s fingers traced patterns on his shoulder. “Ok, so the processing time for spousal applications can be up to a year, so if we’re doing this we need to start soon. And you can get a marriage licence in Massachusetts in three days. So what do you think, bro? Wanna marry me?”

“Do you think we can convince them we’re really married?”

“We’ve lived together nearly three years, and we know everything about each other. Like you said, we’re the Ransom-and-Holster team. We’re good.”

There was barely a pause before Holster replied, “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

“ ‘Swawesome!” Ransom lifted his head from Holster’s chest, raising his fist for a fist-bump to seal the deal, before he settled back for a few more minutes of early-morning cuddles. This was where he belonged, and everything made more sense when they were together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which SMH is notified of the upcoming nuptials, and one Justin Oluransi continues to be oblivious.

**Tuesday through Friday, March 1st to 4th**

The next few days were packed for Ransom and Holster as they added wedding planning on top of their usual classes and practices. They had overlapping free periods on Tuesday afternoon, and went down to town hall to apply for the marriage licence and make an appointment with the Justice of the Peace for the following Monday, the first possible date as SMH had to travel to an away game at Quinnipiac on Friday. They decided to wait until after the game to tell the team, not wanting to be responsible for any distractions as the team needed a win to clinch their spot at the top of the division, and that they’d keep the details to a minimum.

_X_ 

Friday dawned cool and clear, and Ransom dragged himself out of bed for his Molecular Genetics lab, crawling over Holster to get free. Holster didn’t have a class until 11, and had made it known that he fully intended to sleep in. As he trudged along the icy sidewalks to the biology building Ransom thought about how ‘swawesome it was that he was going to keep living with his best bro after college. He knew from all of the horrible reality shows that Holster and Bitty loved that people were supposed to be nervous wrecks before a wedding, but he felt more at peace than he had in ages. It just seemed right.

Later that afternoon the team packed onto the bus for the roadtrip to Quinnipiac, the boys bouncing with energy. Listening to their chirps, off-key singing, and squabbles Ransom realized how #blessed he was to have spent four years with such great teammates. He dropped into his usual seat next to Holster (third row back on the right) and settled in with his Immunology textbook. Barely fifteen minutes later he felt Holster’s head hit his shoulder. “Stop reading, pre-game nap time.”

“But…” Ransom tried to protest.

“No but, you don’t mess with pre-game traditions. Also, you’re ahead of schedule, you can read tomorrow. Nap, now.” 

It seemed pointless to argue, so he tucked the book away and settled his head on top of Holster’s. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was tradition, and it was them.

_X_ 

Four and a hours later, after a hard-fought battle that left the two teams tied at 2-all at the end of regular time, and a beautiful goal from Bitty off a glorious pass from Dex six minutes into overtime, SMH stumbled into their dressing room, exhausted but elated. Ransom and Holster took their responsibility as captains seriously, giving a rousing speech thanking and praising the team for their effort. As Holster finished by re-enacting Chowder’s glorious save that had started the breakaway play for the winning goal, Ransom looked over and caught Holster’s eye. He caught Holster’s nod, and took a deep breath. “So, it may be too late for a celebration Kegster tonight, but if you want to celebrate with us, Holster and I are getting married, Monday at 4 o’clock at town hall. You’re all invited.”

The room erupted in cheers and chirps. For some reason, “it’s about time!” seemed to be the most common refrain. Bitty pulled out his phone immediately, “Oh my goodness! Three days’ notice? Have you boys made any plans for food? No, I didn’t think so. I need to find cake recipes immediately, you’ve left me barely any time to make test batches. And I need to find a cake topper, and display platters, and ….” his voice trailed off as he started rapidly typing on his phone. “Do you have flavour preferences? A colour theme? Anything? A wedding needs to have cake, and desserts!” 

“Um,” Ransom scrambled, “we’re wearing our nice suits? I’m wearing my dark-grey one and Holster’s got his black one.”

“I ordered flowers. Boutonnieres.” Holster piped in. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I’ll tell you details later, Bits.”

“Aw, Holtzy, are you being romantic?” Ransom chirped turning to look at his fiancee (how had that happened?)

“Shut up, you’re the one marrying me.”

“Don’t think for a moment that just because you two are the captains I won’t fine you!” Bitsy glared, before turning back to his phone.

He was interrupted by Lardo grabbing the captains by the neck, tugging them down into headlocks. “Congrats, bros. You belong together, it’s about time you realized it. But I’m with Bits, don’t think that wedding rings are going to stop you from getting fines!”

With that, Ransom’s head snapped up. Rings? Since technically he was the one who proposed, even if it wasn’t a traditional proposal, was he responsible for buying rings?

Lardo seemed to sense his discomfort, narrowing her eyes. “You do have rings, right? Unless you’ve decided that you don’t need rings as they’re a corporate profiteering invention?”

“No, we’re going to pick them out tomorrow?” He managed in response.

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Ok, then.”

The chirping continued throughout the two-hour trip back to Samwell, but Ransom didn’t mind as he was tucked in next to Holster, holding his hand. He didn’t realize when that happened, maybe it was in response to Tango’s endless questions, but it felt right and he pushed any thoughts about what that meant out of his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ransom is encouraged to examine his feelings.

**Saturday March 5th**

Ransom and Holster stumbled in the door to the Haus, elbowing each other to gain the lead in their the race from the car to the attic. They pulled up short at the smell of chocolate emanating from the kitchen, and poked their heads in to find Bitty surrounded by even more bowls and ingredients than usual.

“Oh good, you boys are back. I need your help, I’ve made two test cakes for y’all to try, and the third is in the oven, but I’ll need proper cake pans to make the actual cakes, and a whole list of ingredients. Here,” he said, shoving an impressively long and detailed list at Holster, “put that car of yours to use and pick these up for me.” 

Bitty could be scarily intense when he got into baking mode, so Holster didn’t resist, turning back towards the door with the list in hand, “Ok, we’re on our way.”

“Oh no, I need Ransom’s help here, so you’ll have to make do on your own,” Bitty insisted as Holster nodded and backed away. As the front door clicked closed behind him, Bitty continued “Now Ransom, I need that tube pan from the cupboard above the fridge. No, the one on the left. Yes, that’s it. Now I hope you like Angel Food Cake, it wouldn’t be a wedding event without one. This recipe is from a historical cookbook that I read for my independent study project last semester. I’ll need you to whip these egg whites.” And he thrust a bowl and hand beater at Ransom. “You need to beat those until they peak, while I sift the dry ingredients. A little faster, yes that’s it, just think of it as an arm workout.” Ransom hadn’t considered it previously, but Bitty really did have well-defined arms, all that baking was clearly working for him.

They each worked in silence for a moment or two before Bitty cleared his throat and asked “Now, you know I’ll support y’all in any case, but I need to ask, because this wedding plan seems rather sudden? And y’all never mentioned dating before this, though you are of course entitled to your privacy, and I would never want to out anyone about their orientation or relationship before they’re ready, but it’s just …. I’m just wondering if this is real, or one of your elaborate schemes? It’s just that marriage equality was such a hard-fought battle, it’s only been a few months since the Supreme Court ruling, though I know that y’all figured it out in Canada much sooner, and I just don’t want you to be getting married as a joke or prank?” Bitty’s voice got quiet and he seemed much smaller, as if he was folding in on himself, “That would make me feel as if you saw people like me as a joke.”

Ransom sat back, stunned, the egg whites forgotten. “Bits, it’s not like that, I swear. It’s not a joke, it’s just what makes the most sense. You know I’ll moving back to Canada when I graduate, right? And, well, I just realized that that meant that Holtzy and I wouldn’t be together anymore and that’s, like, not right, we belong together. And he said he’d move with me to wherever I get into school, but the most reliable way to immigrate is to be married, so that’s what we’re doing. But you need to swear not to tell Immigration that part, if they ever question you, ok?” He looked up, suddenly worried.

“Oh honey, I won’t say anything that could separate you, I know how important you are to each other. I wonder if you …” Bitty’s voice trailed off for a moment before he began again. “Now I know that emotional introspection is not your strong suit, but I want to ask you to really think about something for me, okay? Could you really think about what you and Adam mean to each other, and what you feel for him, and what you expect from this marriage? Are y’all best bros and nothing else and being married is just a legal way to stay together, and you’re fine with either of you dating other people? Or is there something else there? Of course whatever works for you two is fine, I’m just really encouraging you to think about what you want, and communicate that to each other before you get married, okay Justin?”

Ransom nodded slowly, “Okay Bits, I will.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you get to that, or whatever you had planned for this afternoon. I’ll take those egg whites.” Bitsy said, grabbing the bowl and beater that Ransom had abandoned, “I’ll just need you two to taste test the options later on so that I can finalize the plans for your reception.”

“Sure, I’ll let you get back to kneading your dough, or whatever.”

“Justin Oluransi! Don’t you blaspheme!! Neither a cake batter or a pie crust are EVER kneaded, have I taught you nothing these past three years?”

And before Bitty could elaborate on all of the properties of various doughs that a science student really should understand, Ransom made his escape for the attic.

For the rest of the afternoon as he tried valiantly to focus on his Immunology reading, Ransom kept hearing Bitty’s voice asking him what Adam meant to him. At the Women’s Volleyball Team’s party that night, Ransom watched Holster dancing in a crowd, and asked himself what his feelings were towards him. And as he lay awake on the top bunk hours later, listening to Holster’s steady breaths from the lower bunk (somehow it seemed best that he sleep in his own bed as he tried to answer these questions), he asked himself if he could imagine dating other people while being married to Holster. And he realized with startling clarity that he didn’t want to date anyone else, that spending the rest of his life with Holster seemed absolutely perfect, and absolutely enough. All of the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind for hours coalesced into one clear realization, that he didn’t just love Holster as his best bro, he was in love with him, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with Holster in whatever way he’d have him. He’d never had feelings for another man before, but that seemed almost insignificant compared to the weight of the realization of his love, and he eventually drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems to me that for Ransom realizing that he is in love with his best friend is a far bigger deal than realizing he's in love with a man, so I didn't feel that a Big.Sexuality.Crisis. was in-character and so I chose not to write him as such. I am not bi, however, so if this reads as untrue to those who identify as such please let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys finally communicate about Feelings.  
> (This is a long one!)

**Sunday March 6**

Sunday saw Ransom still smiling as he snuck out of the attic quietly to avoid waking Holster (who was sure to have a hangover that might be a bit less horrible with a couple more hours’ sleep), and as he walked to Founder’s to meet up with his Immunology study group. He was finally able to concentrate on learning the material, but as he walked back to the Haus he was struck with the thought that there was a very real chance that Holster did not reciprocate his feelings, and what would they do then? How exactly were you supposed to tell your best bro that you’re in love with him, especially when you’ve planned a wedding for the next day? He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that conversation, and spent the rest of the day avoiding being alone with Holster so he didn’t have to say anything quite yet. They participated in Bitty’s taste test (Holster’s mental status was dramatically enhanced by the extra sleep, and a few shots of coffee), agreeing on a chocolate cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache between layers as the main wedding cake. Bitty even promised he’d found the perfect cake topper, though he refused to show it to them. Once he shooed them out of “his” kitchen to wrestle with recipes in peace, Ransom settled on the ugly couch to work on his assignments for his filler Intro Geography course, as Holster and Chowder battled each other in Mario Kart.

_X_ 

As Ransom got ready for bed he realized he couldn’t put off this conversation any longer, since they were due to get married in just over 16 hours. He returned to the attic from brushing his teeth and stood next to the bunk bed, shuffling from one foot to another in the dark room. His mind was blank and he had no idea how to begin this conversation. 

Holster picked up on Ransom’s mood, grabbing his hand and tugging him into bed next to him. “Is this okay, bro?”

Ransom nodded, then shuffled so that his head was on the pillow next to Holster’s.

“I can tell something’s going on in your head, Rans. Do you want to tell me?” Holster asked.

“I do, I just don’t know to say it.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, it’s just … what are we doing? We’re getting married tomorrow. Married!”

“Did you change your mind, Rans?” 

“Bro, no! Did you?”

“No. Then why are you freaking out?” Holster asked.

“It’s just … getting married is supposed to be a big deal. And Bitty cornered me yesterday, when he sent you to the store, and basically asked me why we were getting married and what my intentions were.”

Holster chuckled, “He did the same thing to me when he made me drive him back to the Murder Stop and Shop because he needed more butter.”

“And I’ve been thinking about it pretty much non-stop since then,” Ransom continued. “And I realized that we need to actually talk to each other about what we’re feeling and what we want, because this is too big to leave to the d-man mind-meld.”

“So what are you feeling?” Holster asked, sounding a bit nervous.

Ransom took a deep breath, turned to face Holster, and plowed forward. “I feel … You’re the most important person in my life, and I want to keep spending every day with you. You’re my other half. I know that’s horribly sappy and you can fine me but it’s true, we’re a unit, Ransom-and-Holster. I want to be married to you, to make that official, because I’m in love with you.” 

His face was only inches from Holster’s, close enough that he could see Holster’s eyes widening at that declaration, his mouth moving soundlessly for a few seconds before he squeaked out “You do?”

“I love you, Adam. And not just as my best bro, even though you are, but for reals. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me, in whatever way you’ll have me. And maybe you don’t want that, maybe you just want to be bros and roommates who are married on paper only and hook up with other people, and maybe I’ve scared you off, but I finally figured out how I felt, and I knew I had to tell you before we got married. If we get married, because…” His rambling was cut off as Holster had reached up and covered Ransom’s mouth.

“Bro!” That simple syllable was overflowing with emotion. “Justin. I’ve been in love with you forever, but I didn’t think you would ever feel that way. And when you proposed getting married, even as bros, I was willing to do it, because I would get to be with you. But now you’re saying … you … I didn’t even know you liked guys! How did I not know that?”

“I guess I don’t like all guys, I like a guy, you, and I just finally realized that. So maybe I’m only, like, 5% bi and that 5% is all you. Does that make me Holtzy-sexual?” he smirked, earning a groan from Holster. “But I do want you. Those times in Sophomore year when we drunkenly made out? I liked that. Why did we stop?”

“We stopped because I realized I was in love with you, and it was just too much. And then you were dating March, and it would’ve been weird. And by the time you guys broke up we had started cuddling and sharing a bed sometimes, which was pretty great, and I didn’t want to mess with that either. But if you’re offering, I want that again too. Wait, you do know I’m bisexual too, right?” Holster clarified. 

“Not really? I mean, you’ve only hooked up with women since we’ve known each other, as far as I knew.”

“That’s because I realized pretty quickly that no other guys could compare to you.” Holster said, earning a groan from Ransom in reply before continuing. “So just to make sure we both really understand, we’re saying we both have romantic feelings for each other, and I’m telling you I’m so physically attracted to you too, but I would never pressure you if that’s something you’re not comfortable with, bro.”

“And I’m telling you, Holtzy … Adam, that I don’t just have romantic feelings for you, I’m sexually attracted to you too. I remember how it felt to make out with you, my mouth on yours and your giant, amazing body on top of mine, and I want to do that again. And that one time we kept going and jerked each other off? I really want to do that again, or get my mouth on you. And I want to try being inside each other, at least someday. But I draw the line at rimming, because I have studied microbiology and do you know how many bacteria there are there? I am not sticking my tongue in your ass, no matter how much I love you.”

“No ass-bacteria, check. But the rest of your suggestions sound pretty great.”

Yeah?” Ransom asked, leaning forward to be just a breath away from Holster.

“Yeah.” Holster replied, nuzzling his nose against Ransom’s. “I really want to kiss you. Can I?”

Ransom nodded, and then they both moved at once, lips meeting in a kiss that was gentle and full of feeling. Ransom slid his hand onto Holster’s waist, wanting to be closer, wanting more, but all too soon Holster pulled back. “As much as I really, really would like to keep going, I think we should wait?”

Ransom raised his eyebrows at that. “Waiting for our wedding night? I didn’t realize you were so traditional!”

Holster snorted and said “You know that’s not true, but this, us, is so important to me, and I don’t want us to get caught up in the emotion of a moment and do something without really talking and thinking it through, without your being 100% sure of it.”

“I am 100% sure I want to be with you, but I am willing to wait before we do anything if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Justin,” Holster whispered, pressing a light kiss to Ransom’s temple.

“Would it be okay if we touch?” Ransom asked. “It doesn’t have to be a sex thing, I just want to feel you next to me.”

“Of course. Want to roll over and I can spoon you?”

Ransom nodded, rolling onto his left side, and shuffled back so his back was pressed against Holster’s broad chest. Holster slid his arm along Ransom’s arm and interlocked their fingers. “This ok?”

“Mmmm.” Ransom felt himself nearly purring. He’d never been spooned by someone bigger than him, and it felt amazing. “Feels great. Safe. With you.” 

“We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, need to look hot in our wedding pictures!” “You’re always hot,” Holster whispered in his ear. “I love you, Justin.” He pressed a light kiss below the ear.

Ransom drew their intertwined hands to his mouth to kiss Holster’s knuckles. “I love you too, Adam.” His breathing slowed, and soon they were both asleep, curled together on the narrow bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a wedding is held, and celebrations are had.  
> (Another extra-long chapter)

**Monday March 7**

When the alarm rang early the next morning, Ransom woke blinking, wondering if the night before had been just a dream, but there was Holster right next to him, sprawled on his stomach with his arm across Ransom’s torso. Holster mumbled and stretched, reaching over Ransom to swipe the phone alarm to silence and then pressing a soft kiss to Ransom’s jawline. “Morning, babe.”

“Oh, are we on nicknames already?” Ransom asked before returning a kiss to Holster’s forehead. 

There was no time for much more than ridiculous endearments and quick kisses as they stumbled out of bed, grabbed coffee and oatmeal cookies from the kitchen, and made their way to Faber for morning practice. Their closer connection showed on the ice, as they completed passes and drills even more seamlessly than usual, earning praise from the coaches as they walked back to the dressing room after practice. Ransom shot Holster a look for confirmation before issuing an invitation. “So we’re having a gathering this afternoon,” he started.

“We know about your parties,” Murray replied as Hall nodded in agreement, “and I’m not sure if they’re quite our style. Also, on a Monday night?”

“Oh, you might want to come to this one,” Holster joined in. “We’re getting married.”

Both coaches eyes widened in surprise. “Yup, our wedding. 4pm, today, town hall.” Ransom added, grinning at Holster with a look that was sure to earn him a fine if Lardo caught him, but he didn’t care. 

“We’ll be there,” Coach Hall confirmed.

“ ‘Swawesome!” Holster extended his glove for a mini-celly.

_X_

An hour later, the team was finishing breakfast in the dining hall as Tango peppered the captains with questions. “So if you’re getting married at town hall, is there still a ceremony? Who are your groomspeople? Will someone walk you down the aisle? Will there be an aisle?” 

“Wait!” Holster interrupted.

“Our parents!” Ransom joined a second later.

“You didn’t tell your parents you’re getting married?” Nursey asked. “I know I don’t spend much time with my parents, but even I would’ve told them if I was getting married.”

“We … forgot?” Ransom offered as they both wolfed down the last bites of their food and took off back to the Haus.

As they walked, Holster admitted “Actually I didn’t forget, I thought of calling them last week but I knew they’d all want to come down and my sisters have chirped me for years since they figured out I had a crush on you, and if it wasn’t real, or if you changed your mind at the last minute, it just would’ve been too much.”

“But now that it is real?” Ransom asked. “I want to tell them now. How about your folks?”

“I want to tell them, too. They might be surprised, but I know they love you. Actually, last summer Mom kept dropping comments about how close we were, and how lovely it was that we had each other, so maybe she knew before I did? Huh.”

And soon they were at the Haus calling their parents and sisters to issue a same-day invitation to attend a wedding via Skype, and promises were made to have a “real ceremony” after the school year ended. The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind - attending classes where nothing was absorbed, avoiding the kitchen where Bitty was making final preparations for the post-wedding reception with Dex’s help, and receiving chirps from the team. Soon it was 3:30 pm and they were back in the attic and getting dressed for their wedding, and then making the short walk to town hall trailed by many of their friends. 

By ten to 4, the town hall’s lobby was packed with enthusiastic members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team past and present dressed in their finest, earning a few raised eyebrows from passing town employees. Dex and Bitty had their phones out, setting up the Skype connection for the Birkholtz and Oluransi families to join in the ceremony. As they waited, Holster pulled out a small box. 

“I almost forgot the flowers. Here,” he said, holding the box out to Ransom. 

Ransom opened the lid, revealing two rosebud boutonnières. Holster pulled one out and tried to slide it into the buttonhole on Ransom’s lapel, hands trembling. Ransom realized that he was the calm one of the pair, for once, as he reached up to steady Holster’s hand. As they secured the bud in place, Holster explained it was “red, for love” as his eyes shone with that love. Ransom secured Holster’s flower in place, hearing a shutter click over his shoulder as he did so. He turned and saw Jack, camera in hand. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jack explained. “Bitty invited me, we don’t have a game tonight and he thought you would want some photos of the ceremony?”

“Of course we want you here, Jack!” Ransom exclaimed, grabbing Jack in a one-armed hug careful not to squish the flower. 

“You were our captain for two years,” Holster agreed, grabbing Jack’s other shoulder, “and you’re one of our best friends. Besides,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I have it on good authority that someone considers the two of you as Relationship Goals, so we need you here to set an example for us.”

Jack blushed at the compliments and stammered his thanks just before a clerk appeared, calling them into the small court chamber.

The ceremony was short and to the point. Adam and Justin gripped each other’s hands firmly as the Justice confirmed their identities and commitment to each other, then asked them to repeat non-denominational vows and exchange rings before proclaiming them married husbands and asking them to seal their bond with a kiss. They pulled each other close in a kiss full of emotion as the room erupted with loud cheers from the team. As they pulled apart, Dex and Bitty held their phones close so the families gathered on the other end of the Skype connections could send their love and congratulations. The Justice caught their attention and reminded them to sign the marriage certificate, which they did with Chowder and Lardo as witnesses. 

Holster leaned close to Justin’s ear and said, “look at that, it’s official, we’re really married!” as his eyes welled up with happy tears.

“Sap!” Ransom chirped.

“But I’m your sap, you just made a legally binding vow, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” Ransom replied, pulling his husband close for a kiss that quickly became passionate before being interrupted by a chorus of “Fiinnnee!” from the team.

“You can’t fine us on our wedding day!” Holster argued.

“There’s no wedding clause in the bylaws,” Shitty argued. “Well we’re adding one as soon as we get back to the Haus,” Ransom insisted.

The potential bylaws argument was interrupted by the town clerk asking them to clear the chambers, and gently ushering them out of the building. The group congregated on the front steps of the town hall, where the coaches approached the newlyweds.

“Congratulations, boys.” Hall said. “You have our permission to skip tomorrow morning’s practice.”

“From the coaching and team staff,” Murray explained, handing over a gift certificate for two nights’ stay at a guest cabin outside of town.

“Ooh, looks like we’ll get that wedding night after all!” Holster said, eyebrows waggling dramatically. 

“I don’t need to know,” Hall said, “Just be back at practice by Thursday morning ready to go, playoffs start next weekend.”

“Yes, Coach.” Ransom agreed. “Thank you to the whole staff.”

The coaches made their exit, and then the team walked to the one nice restaurant in Samwell for a celebration dinner before heading back to the Haus for dessert. The kitchen was cleaned and decorated, and the table was overflowing with desserts. In the centre was Bitty’s masterpiece, a two-tiered frosted cake, topped with two hockey figurines in Samwell colours, arms and sticks raised in celebration. Surrounding this were two smaller cakes, three pies, and a tart (“I just couldn’t decide, and I wanted to make sure everyone had something they enjoyed, including at least two favorites for each of you,” Bitty explained). The team crowded around as Ransom and Holster cut the cake and fed each other first bites while posing with increasingly ridiculous expressions for Jack’s photos. 

Soon everyone was served, and they settled into the living room to celebrate. The green couch had been covered with a clean sheet, and the newlyweds were led to that seat of honour, surrounded by their friends. Within minutes someone remembered the tradition of clinking glasses, and so every few moments conversation was interrupted by these demands that the new husbands kiss. After a few rounds of drinks the team started suggesting famous kisses from movies or sitcoms to recreate for each request, with Holster enthusiastically guiding Ransom in his pop-culture ignorance (“Why exactly did I marry a man who has missed every sitcom and blockbuster movie of the past decade?”) Ransom was willing to participate, if it meant more opportunities to kiss and hold his husband without being chirped. He only had one drink, wanting to stay alert to remember every moment of this day. 

Holster leaped over the back of the couch to rejoin Ransom after recreating the Spiderman kiss, and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Ready for that wedding night after all, Mr husband of mine?” Ransom chirped quietly.

“Well you do look amazing in that suit, but I think you’d look even better out of it,” Holster murmured next to Ransom’s ear before he nipped lightly at the lobe, causing Ransom to shiver. “Bro, whether we do anything or not, and as much as I love the team, I just really want to be alone with you right now. Have I told you that I love you?”

Ransom bit back a moan, before he turned to whisper back, “You have, and I love you too, bro, and I am 100% on board with being alone and getting you out of that suit,” as he ran a hand up and down Holster’s arm for emphasis.

“We really need to escape. You have the cabin info, right?” Holster asked.

Ransom gave a small nod.

“Okay,” Holster suggested, “when we get a chance I’ll sneak to grab my keys and our stuff, then we’ll meet at the door, yell goodbye, and make our escape before they try to hold us captive or make us do more embarrassing shit. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ransom replied, raising his fist for a fist-bump.

Moments later their opportunity presented itself as Shitty started a loud rant about something or another, drawing the attention of the whole room. Holster casually snuck off the couch and upstairs, and as he came back down a minute later Ransom lept over the back of the couch and grabbed Holster in his arms. They shared a wet and passionate kiss to a chorus of whistles before they made a break for the door, running into the darkness to enjoy their wedding night and the beginning of the rest of their lives together.

_X_ THE END _X_


End file.
